


Rising Son

by crookedneighbour



Series: Rising Son [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Creepy, Father/Son Incest, Gore, Guro, Hitchhiking, Legacy Feels, M/M, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon needs a place to stay before turning over Ned's old place. He catches a lift from Ramsay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. House Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deathtouch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/gifts).



The north end's bars always smelled of beer and sour sweat. It as the same for the girls. Theon had eyed over a red head in a green crop top and jean shorts-- bought her a beer or two even, but when she asked for half upfront his mind had changed. He was a Greyjoy, son of the biggest dealer in the swamps and nephew to a preacher, he didn't pay for things. He took them.

When his old man refused to co-operate with Robb's investigation into the down town circuit the only place left to come as here. He'd need a few days before turning over dead daddy Stark's place. Make sure the time was right and strike. That's what he'd said to his boys at least. In reality he as less certain.

And of course when he mentioned needing a bed, none of them made a fucking peep. They were there for the money, not for his friendship. He should have fucking known. Instead of the swamp boys offering up, it was some nobody north end fuck who had ended up at their table. The boys had called him Reek. He smelt a few days past expiration, and the plaid shirt over his tank top had bleach stains in the back.

He spoke like he knew something, but he liked Theon's ideas. That was enough to seal it. Besides it was just a few days. How bad could it get?

Reek's truck looked like it as about thirty years old. It as red with a white panel down the middle. It took both of them to lift Theon's bike into the back, but it'd be easier than tailing him at night, and he could save on gas. The inside of the truck had the same musty smell it's owner did. The rifle up above his windshield looked well cared for though.

Reek had said he lived a good hour outside town. In the end it had only taken about twenty for things to get weird.

Reek had been quiet most of the ride, letting the sound of the frogs and the rattle of the road overpower them. It was a little uncomfortable, but it was better than having to act like Theon gave a shit about whatever he had to say.

"My old man's a bit of a stickler for rules. You'll need to earn our keep and be back in by supper, but he don't mean anything by it," Reek drawled. It was followed by a laugh. "Manners and tradition. That's what he says make a man."

"Sure, man," Theon mumbled. He was less than thrilled at the prospect, but it'd be no worse than the barn risings he'd done with the neighbors as a kid. He remembered Ned's voice, deep but clear-- _A good man helps his neighbors_ _as his brothers._

Pretty soon after the road stopped being road and started being dirt, smoky plumes rising up behind them as they rode. In the dark he couldn't see too much, but what he could see as overgrown and in shambles. Decay had settled in here. 

Somewhere along the way he had started smoking. He mashed it into a crowded ash tray as Reek stopped the car.

The house loomed ahead, yellowy light washing over the porch and beaming out from a  few windows. It had the same vast look as the Stark's house. It'd probably been in the family since before the reuniting. It looked like it hadn't had a coat of paint since than either.

Theon could see a slender silhouette in one of the frames. He tried squinting. It had to be Reek's dad, didn't it? Reek stepped out of the car with a swinging step.

"Daaaaaad," he called out, taking heavy steps onto the porch.

"You can stop worrying yourself, I'm back," he added loudly."

The same lean shape he had seen before no stood in the doorway of the house. He didn't look much like Reek. His face as gaunt and oddly unremarkable except for his eyes. His eyes were pale, and reminded him of the glass one's he'd seen in a stuffed vulture at the county fair once. He'd dreamt of that bird for days.

"I see. Who's this?" the man said softly, looking over to Theon.

"This is Theon Greyjoy," Reek said proudly. "Balon's boy."

He looked to is father with a grin. The man sighed and stepped forward. He was shorter than Theon had initially thought. It wasn't that he was small, but his thinness made him seem taller. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and an ironed shirt. The quality was a bit better than Reek's.

"Nice to meet you, Greyjoy. I'm sure Ramsay has already told you, but I prefer you call me Mr. Bolton."

"Ramsay...? I thought his name as Reek," Theon replied. Mr. Bolton cocked his head and smiled at this. Theon felt has spine tingle.

"Just a nickname I'm afraid....."

Ramsay slapped Theon on the back playfully.

"You never asked! Now come on inside. I'll show you the guest bedroom then we can have some dinner."

The guest room ended up being far nicer a bed than he'd had in a while. At his dad's Theon had slept on the couch. The cushions were little more than foam slapped into scratchy fabric. Dinner wasn't bad either. Mr. Bolton had some old mash potatoes and chicken left. Ramsay had tried to suck the marrow from the bones only to cast them away in disappointment.

The house as too big for three people, It seemed unbelievable they lived here just two. Old family photos lined the walls, having turned yellow and blue with the passing of time. Thinking about them made it hard to sleep. They all had the same weird eyes as Mr. Bolton and Ramsay. 

Theon found himself looking at them again. The guest bedroom as small and hardly furnished, except for the bed and a dresser. On the wall there was a photo of Mr. Bolton and a young man. He looked much more like him than Ramsay did. A dead fox lay at his feet, a gun across his back and hunting crossbow in his hand. The creature's neck was still bleeding.

The two of them had matching vests and a similar expressionless look to them. When Theon finally slept he saw the fox again, but this time it's belly was cut open, entrails spilling out. Two vultures fed from it as it still yelped in pain.

 


	2. Chores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon has breakfast with Mr. Bolton and helps Ramsay with some chores.

Theon woke up with a slight ache in his back. He'd slept like shit, but amidst his usual nightmares he'd remembered something important. He'd actually met Mr. Bolton before. Some where in his sleep he'd recalled the community meetings Ned dragged them to as kids. Mr. Bolton had been there. His name was Roose. He'd been weird then too, quiet and solemn. He recalled an image of him wading through the swamps, collecting leeches with Ned. He'd told Robb, Roose looked half leech himself. Why hadn't remembered this until now? And why hadn't Mr. Bolton mentioned they knew each other?  The sooner he left this creep show the better.

A change of clothes had been left by the door, probably by Roose. Theon's own clothes had been folded next to them. How had come in without waking him? The thought of Mr. Bolton standing over him as he slept in his briefs made his stomach twist. It wasn't like his ass was sore or anything, but the two of them were still weird as fuck. He was starting to think Ramsay was the kind guy to jerk off while watching him sleep.

Theon pulled on his own jeans on just as the door creaked open. Mr. Bolton was dressed much like he was yesterday except the color in his pants and shirt were just different enough to be a different pair. He wasn't dressed badly, just generically. He looked over Theon slowly then to the pile of clothes he'd ignored. Theon's bare skin prickled. It was probably just the open door, a cool draft coming in...

"There's breakfast ready. I've sent Ramsay to get some supplies, so you best eat up. When he gets back, I'll be putting you to work," Roose said. It was the same way Catelyn had suggested things to him, Robb, and Jon. Theon quickly threw his shirt back on still under Roose's eye. Being dressed didn't improve the sensation as much as he'd hoped.

"Sounds good," Theon replied.

The smell of fresh bacon coming from the kitchen was a decent distraction though. It'd been a while since he'd had a home coked meal. At his dad's place they'd had some canned goods and instant meals. Asha was a shit cook and it wasn't like Balon as gonna look after the two of them.

In the kitchen to biscuits and some strips of bacon had been set out for him. A pot of coffee was placed in the middle of the table and a hot cup of it as by the sink as well. Mr. Bolton took to cleaning the pan, but not before the bacon drippings in a mason jar.

Theon wasn't sure if it was better or worse that Ramsay wasn't here. He bit into the biscuit, opting not to think about it. It as warm and flaky, clearly from scratch. It practically melted in his mouth. He'd missed this almost as much as sex.

Mr. Bolton cleared his throat.

"This house was in a much better state once," he started, still scrubbing the iron pan. The bacon as well cooked. Theon bit into it to avoid having to reply.

"When I was about your age it was still a proper farm. We had horses. Strong ones. Tobacco plants, " Roose explained,

Roose dried the pan off with a checkered rag and rejoined Theon at the table, both hands coiled around his cup of coffee. He had an air of resignation, but without the melancholy other men might have.

"But that's all gone now. You can thank Eddard Stark and the divorce for that. That's not a word you here much is it, Greyjoy? Divorce."

"No, sir."

It was better not to question him. Ramsay had the only vehicle. He was stuck here.

"She died, Bethany-- my second wife that is-- not too long after so I suppose we each suffered for it," Roose mused. He took a long sip of his coffee. "Money's still gone though."

Theon searched for something to say. Fortunately, Roose's head turned up at the sound of the front door opening.

Ramsay sauntered back into the house, a crooked smile on his face. He as dressed in a dark grey tank top and the same jeans as yesterday. He hadn't noticed how strong his arms and shoulders looked last night. Then of course h wasn't worried about getting fondled by his dad last night either.

"What a lovely spread, father," Ramsay sighed, his voice lo and smooth. He leaned over Theon, plucking  piece of bacon.

"Did you get everything?" Roose asked, looking entirely unsurprised.

"I know what I'm doing," he grumbled between crunchy bites. "Come on, Theon. Let's go earn your keep around here."

Ramsay gave his father a forced grin as Theon got up. Roose stared at the two of them, stone faced.

"Thanks, sir," Theon said. He hated grovelling, but it as better than another meal with these backwater fuck ups.

"So uh.. What are we building?" Theon asked when they got outside. Ramsay's truck as filled with lumber. It didn't look like it was for anything too big.

"Some of the support beams in the barn are rotting. Rats and rain my old man says," Ramsay offered vaguely as he climbed into the truck bed. "Take these."

He handed two longer wide beams to Theon and grabbed a tool box from the chaos. When he hopped out he paused to look over Theon approvingly. The barn out back as old and some of the red paint had fallen off from the side, leaving swatches of ruddy brown. In other places the sun had worn the color from it, the siding turning sickly shades of white. A heavy lock barred the door and a few other supplies were propped up against the side.

"Hard work looks good on you," he laughed, leading Theon to the back of the house.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Theon snapped. He was getting sick of the two of them always acting like they had something over him.

"That you probably haven't done any," Ramsay replied. He began pulling some saw horses from the side of the barn. "You raise a few barns for daddy Stark, you can fix a spare tire, sure... But that's not real hard stuff."

"Whatever, asshole. Let's just build this," Theo grumbled. Ramsay's eyes were shining with amusement, and Theon felt stupid. He should have just laughed along so he could convince Ramsay they were buddies. Get him to take them both out drinking tonight and lose him at the bar. Maybe there as still time for that, but he'd have to swallow his pride.

Ramsay thankfully shut up after that. He had Theon sand one of the large pieces of wood while he took the other to the saw horse, his jaw clenched in concentration. The sun made everything a but more tedious, but with Ramsay quiet he could endure it. He even seemed to be in better spirits. He had a manic edge to his movements and as he placed the beams together he smiled. When the last nails went in he even looked proud. Theon didn't quite see what the big deal was.

"What do you think, Greyjoy?" His grin as so wide that Theon could see his tongue.

"It looks good... Sturdy..."

"Help me lift it then hold it in place."

Theon grunted a bit at first, but they got it up easily. The whole thing stood a good foot or so taller than him. Ramsay stood back, clearly pleased with their work. Theon stood behind, but in the yellowy grass of the yard his shadow looked in the middle of the cross.


	3. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon wants a shower but that means helping Roose fix the boiler.

Theon had worked up more of a sweat than he realized.  It was likely half nerves. Ramsay had an energetic buzz about him on the way back to the house.

"So I was thinking we could step out and get some drinks tonight. I thought it'd be nice to buy you a round or two as thanks for how nice you and your old man have been," Theon tried.

Ramsay grinned at that. This smile seemed a little less deranged than the others so that was progress.

"You know what, Greyjoy? That sounds like a lovely evening. It'll be nice to get some time away from my dad don't you think?" Ramsay paused his step so that they were adjacent to each other. "Just us..."

Scratch the previous thought about progress. He could still slip Ramsay tonight, and it was becoming evidently more and more necessary.

Ramsay took another wide step, a slight swing in his stride as he climbed the porch steps.

"Why don't you freshen up for our big night? " Ramsay continued. "You'll never find a girl smelling like you do."

Ramsay strode upstairs without explanation, leaving Theon alone. The house was creepy, but not nearly as much as the way Ramsay looked at him was. He looked at him like he was sizing him up, like he wanted to fight him or fuck him. Maybe both.

"Uh.... Mr. Bolton.... Are you here? I was wondering where the shower is..." Theon called out. He heard a creak overhead and the clack of Mr. Bolton's shoes. Roose looked down to him from the top of the stairs. Staring up at him brought out the gaunt nature of his frame, and his silence had almost spectral effect as he descended the stairs. He took his time with the task, and the stairs whined and cracked as he descended. He stopped at the penultimate stare, still a good foot or so taller than Theon.

"Didn't Ramsay tell you? Our boiler needs fixing," he replied. "I've done most of the work, but I just need some help with the valve."

Roose smiled as he cleared the last step.

"It'll just take a moment."

The back of Theon's neck prickled. They'd be going into the basement. He didn't want to go. He didn't really even want to shower. He wanted to leave. He followed Roose anyway.

The basement door's paint was peeled off in large chunks. It appeared to have been yellow once or perhaps had been awfully stained over the years. Roose opened the door and and headed down with little circumstance.

There was no light, and each step brought them further into the dark together. There was a brief click as Roose tugged a string. The light left an orange wash over everything and the circuitry hummed.

"Right there, Greyjoy," Roose said, gesturing at a rusty boiler. Theon crouched down to reach a rusty looking valve. Add getting  tetanus shot the many things he'd do to clean himself of this place. It was a bit hard to get moving at first, and Theon felt his shoulders tense and bulge as he twisted it. He let out a long sigh as it finally gave and the boiler followed with a hiss of it's own.

Theon took a moment to catch his breath, Roose watching him in silence. He lacked Ramsay's feral edge, but instead it was like he was examining him piece by piece. It made Theon's intestines twist. It'd be good to get that shower after all.

"Head up and I'll turn off the light after you," Roose ordered

He didn't have to tell Theon twice. After the light clicked behind him, there was a white flash, and the impression of Ramsay's shape. The air around him smelled almost like cheap flavored vodka, a mix of ether and cloying sweetness. The last thing he was aware of was Roose Bolton's arms slipping around his waist.

Theon later awoke to the sound of Ramsay's voice, but he was too groggy to make out hat he as saying at first. The room smelled like a strange mix of must and chemicals. Ramsay had a small ice box at his feet and Roose was behind him standing at a worn table. The floor was wooden boards in some places and dirt in others. It was then Theon realized he wasn't actually touching the ground. Also, he was naked. His wrists and ankles were bound to the cross he and Ramsay had built, and he was propped against the wall of wherever they were. He tentatively tried to wriggle against them.

"It's good and sturdy. You said so yourself," Ramsay hummed. The crazy hungry animal look was back across his face. Ramsay looked to his father after making the remark. Roose was not particularly amused by the situational irony, and so busied himself with unrolling a black leather tool bag. There were more knives than Theon cared to think about.

Theon's eyes adjusted to the low light and he could see he was inside a barn, the walls covered with different animal skins, pulled taught and hung between the beams.

"What the fuck. What the fuck is wrong with you two and what the fuck am I doing tied up with you?" Theon slurred.

His insides felt numb and the reptilian part of his brain kicked in. As he started to thrash again he could see that he had been wrong before. He should have never come here. It wasn't safe here. He wasn't safe here. Ramsay was not a safe person to have left with. Roose was not a safe person either. They were going to kill him. They'd been planning it the whole time. They were going to kill him and these weren't only animal skins. The ones closest to him were too pale and too thin. These weren't cattle. These were people.

Roose stepped towards him, holding an old looking knife with a curved tip.

"You've seen how we're living, Greyjoy," Roose started, his voice a soft sigh. "You're going to help my bastard and I restore what we were. That's what you offered when you came here. To help us fix things."

Roose's eyes were level with his. He looked just the same as ever. There was little feeling in him. A hint of amusement, and maybe pride, but it was more like staring into nothingness than anything else.

Roose arched the blade in his hand, looking don almost to ponder it then back to Theon.

"Ramsay's taken to skinning, but he's only done a few men. He has some natural talent, but needs practice."

Ramsay frowned at this. Roose turned to look back at his son before continuing.

"You rush things. Fear is as fine a tool as pain. Let the anticipation work for you."

Roose lay a cool hand on Theon's shoulder, and met his eyes again, his fingers working the tense muscles.

"There now. I'm saving your hide proper for him. I'll be curious to see which part of you he chooses," Roose said.

Theon felt sick at the touch. His eyes were pulled to Roose's blade though.

"Please don't. Just let me down I won't tell anyone," he rambled. The knife grazed softly against the flesh of his neck. It stung weirdly similar to the way a paper-cut did and he could feel he wasn't bleeding yet. Roose rotated his wrist and the point of the knife dug into the base of his throat. Theon whined. He couldn't help it.

Unlike his father, Ramsay's enjoyment of the situation was apparent. His pale eyes were fixed on Theon and his lips were curled up in a smile. Roose flicked the knife and Theon felt the first bit of blood run from him. It as just his luck they were going to torture him first. He couldn't just get killed by insane backwater north-ender's. He was going to be tortured first as well. When did his whole life turn to shit?

"Please," Theon moaned again. This time it was a long low groan. Ramsay ran a hand down the front of his pants and squeezed himself, his eyes fluttering closed then open again.

The biggest part of the joke was that his life had never really turned to shit, it had always been a matter of passing it off as better than it was. He'd been miserable his whole life, except for the few times Robb made him forget what he was. And it was all ending here.

"Try to contain yourself," Roose uttered.

"I know you're hard," Ramsay huffed."If gutting a corpse turns you on I'm--"

"That's irrelevant," Roose interrupted. Theon considered looking to see, if Ramsay was right, but he didn't really want to know.

"Now, Ramsay, tell me which part of him you'll start with. I'll even let you get a look at him first to decide."

Roose stepped back and crossed his arms. Ramsay made an obvious show of eying his father and let his eyes settle at his groin before focusing on Theon with a self-satisfied smile. He reached out to touch him, but instead let his fingers hover above the skin.  Theon looked away, but instead Ramsay knelt and weaved to meet his eye anyway.

"I think I'll take his fingers. They bleed real fast and it'll hurt."

"Fair enough," Roose replied.

Ramsay took one of the other knives from the table. When the knife went in Theon screamed. He couldn't hear it though. Everything was over taken by the sensation of pain. Like his whole brain was focused in on the spot here the blade orked under his skin and down his pointer finger. Ramsay tore it off indelicately. The spasm started in his wrist then carried through his arm and shoulder. Then Ramsay started another.

This one was worse. A click of his father's tongue had him moving slower, and the new sensation as combined with the burning agony of the first finger. Theon wanted to curl into a tight ball, but instead he was pulled flat by the bonds.

"Do a third then give it a rest. I need you to ready a rack, while I'm gone," Roose continued. He was standing behind Ramsay, his hands resting on his shoulders. There was no affection in it though.

"A wedding souvenir, is it?" Ramsay's voice was rich with lust when he spoke.

Roose nodded.

"You remember, Robb's uncle Ed don't you, Theon?" Roose asked. Theon wasn't sure how this related to anything going on.

"Robb insulted the Frey's honor and I'm afraid they didn't take to well to it," Roose clarified. "His uncle's still wedding the prettiest of them though."

Ramsay nodded along enthusiastically.

"When my father's done, you'll have Robb to keep you company here," Ramsay added "What ever my father leaves of him that is."

Roose clenched his teeth and forced a smile as Ramsay filled in the missing pieces. Theon's stomach turned. Not Robb. Not Robb here, gutted and displayed like an animal. He was sick. This place and the pain had made him sick. It'd be easier to just let it consume him. Theon begin to gag as Roose Bolton headed for the door.

The revulsion in him twisted and throbbed from his stomach into his upper chest. His neck arched forward as he vomited, his wrists and ankles aching as his body involuntarily flexed against his bonds.

Ramsay looked more fascinated than disgusted.

"You were a bit off before, but now you really reek," he sneered.

"Hose him off as well, bastard," Roose called out. The barn door creaked behind him as he shut it.

Ramsay looked back, checking if his father was truly gone. Theon didn't feel better after vomiting per say, he instead felt a different kind of awful. He felt empty and weak, and the pain in his hand still made him dizzy.

"While we're on the topic of souvenirs I have another one for you," Ramsay chirped, turning to the previously ignored ice box. He produced a piece of something flat and fleshy looking.

"I visited your boys earlier and brought a little something back. It's a bit easier when they're dead so I got a nice big piece for you," Ramsay said, poking at the hanging piece of skin. "Well.... For me really."

Theon hadn't particularly liked his dad's boys, but they didn't deserve this. No one deserved this.

Ramsay began to tug open his jeans with his free hand and pulled a small silver packet from his right pocket.

"I've always wondered what this feels like. I've had a dead girl before, But she was still in one piece. And my father..." Ramsay rolled his eyes and began to laugh. "My father would lose his shit if I touched one of the pieces in here."

Theon's jaw hung open and tears formed in his eyes as Ramsay lowered his briefs. He tore the packet open with his teeth, and the lubricant spilled over his thick lips and hand.

Ramsay stroked himself a few times, the lubricant making the slick noises as he worked himself.

"Look here, Greyjoy, or I'll make you wish you had," he muttered, half moaning as he wrapped the bloodied side of the skin around his cock.

Theon tried focusing on Ramsay's eyes. It was better than watching the flick of his wrist, or the way his chest heaved with ragged breaths. The contact was only broken by Ramsay's eyes wincing shut open to open again just as intense as before.

"My father had me out of wedlock, but this what it means for me to be a Bolton," Ramsay grunted, hunched over in focus.

Theon tried counting in his head to slow the pain, but that didn't help either.

"I'm a Bolton and you're my new bitch."

Ramsay's hair was plastered to his head and seat had begun to run down his neck.

"You're mine," he muttered again. The pace of his wrist quickened, and the wet noises had become a constant squelching. Finally, Ramsay let out a long groan as his hips bucked. He cast the skin aside, his cock dripping with a mix of blood seed and lubricant. Ramsay unceremoniously stripped as he went for the hose.

He first doused himself, laughing into the water before turning it on Theon. The ache in his hand flared up again, but it was better than being left in his own vomit. Ramsay smiled unevenly and looked over both of them, water beading along his chest.

"I'll be back in a bit, sweetheart. Don't go anywhere."

Theon would have laughed if he wasn't sobbing. As Ramsay swaggered towards the exit, Theon looked to the human skins hanging on the wall beside him, unsure of whose fate was worse.


	4. Howling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay returns. Roose does not.

Theon had never cared much for pain. He could deal with it, but he never had the love of it some men did. He remembered one drunk night when Jon had confessed that the thought of a girl hitting him turned him on. He had tried to the bleach the image from his mind with as much whiskey as he could stomach.

The flayings had hurt. They had made his voice go quiet in his chest. The pain after was worse though-- constant, and awful. Theon was pretty sure he was going mad from it. A couple days in he imagined what it would be like to catch and eat a rat, if only to stop the ache. Ramsay hadn't surfaced for a few days. At least he could tell time. Beams of light cut through the dark when it was bright out, turning golden red then vanishing with the night's arrival. If he as lucky maybe the bastard would just starve him to death.

He'd been haunted by what Ramsay did and the clear pleasure he took. It was better than sex for him. Theon had worried about Ramsay raping him once. He'd be lucky if Ramsay didn't try to make a new hole to fuck.

The third evening his supposed peace ended. Ramsay arrived with the sunset, a bloodhound trailing after him. He was in Theon's old clothes, an electric torch in his hand. The light was yellowy an ugly, and Theon could hear it buzzing from across the barn. Ramsay smiled at him, then turned to the dog.

"Myranda, this is your new home. Don't mind the smell, girl," he hummed, rubbing the wrinkly dog behind the ears. It's tail wagged appreciatively.

"I thought you might be lonely!" Ramsay greeted, turning to Theon no. "You've been hear all by yourself, and I know how much you love a good fuck."

Ramsay fumbled through Theon's pockets as he approached, producing his phone. He wet his lips as he flipped it open, humming and clicking his tongue as he proceeded to explore it's contents.

He chuckled to himself.

"That is a nice one... What do you think?"

Ramsay flipped the phone to face Theon, revealing a grainy picture of a woman's topless torso. He was pretty sure it was Kyra though he also had some of Ros' photos as well. What the fuck was he supposed to say to this.

 "Yeah.. Please... Just let me down..." Theon groaned."

Ramsay rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright. God she looks tight. Was she tight when you fucked her? Tell me everything then I'll let you down. I promise it."

Ramsay sounded earnest. Theon swallowed, even as his cheeks and fingers burned. He'd told this story dozens of times. All he had to do was tell it again.

"We were drinking in the woods near Luwin's house. She'd been working the diner that night and I offered her a cigarette. I knew I could fuck her... It'd be easy," Theon started, swallowing down a sob mid sentence. "It wasn't her first time, but she was still kinda tight at first. Then she loosened up and started moaning." When he'd told it last he'd been with his boys in the bar. He'd called her a whore. He'd embellished a bit too. In retrospect he'd been a bit of an asshole.

"Was she wet?" Ramsay nodded along to the story, beginning to unzip Theon's jeans and jerk himself off.

"Yeah... Dripping," Theon said. He'd almost choked again. His throat was dry and seeing Ramsay touch himself again made his skin crawl.

Ramsay snapped a picture of his groin with Theon's phone and began typing, reading his message aloud.

"Missing your cunt, but I wouldn't mind seeing your face," he announced proudly. "Aaaand sent."

Theon cringed at the thought of Kyra being exposed to him, but at least he'd earned his freedom.

"Now you'll let me go?" Theon tried.

Ramsay laughed, readjusting Theon's clothes.

"I said I'd let you down, not let you go.... And I didn't say when." Ramsay's eyes flicked to the phone as it buzzed with an incoming text. He pouted mockingly and gave Theon's bare cock a squeeze. "Now be a good boy and wait for me while I get you a playmate."

 

**Author's Note:**

> [An Illustration by AeonDelirium](http://41.media.tumblr.com/7cc5fdfe8bf97f3d8014b6ea09e1ee28/tumblr_nhs0daxl5G1toywzeo1_500.png)


End file.
